


Historical-ish Hamilton - freeform

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, also featuring tree bros, historical appearances, historical events, it's a long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: DISCLAIMER-Okay, so there's minor (and historically dated) swearing, an (oddly vast) array of touchy subjects, a lot of angst, and the usual drama, humor, and friendzones ― except it's set in 18th century America, during the revolution.Oh yeah, and I apologize for any inaccuracies ― this uses a lot of imagination where history doesn't provide info. Creative license and such was used, but do not tell me Lams is not canon. Seriously, read the letters. Some of that sh*t had to be censored.But Hamilton and Eliza is still, in my opinion, the best for this fanfiction. Historically, they were both quite the characters. Marrying Alexander had changed Eliza, and vice versa.Plus, back then you could and would die for being a “sodomite” ― with a sexual attraction to your same gender, then impulse on those thoughts. John and Alexander would probably, in today's culture, elope in a freaky fast time, but this is historical. If they did elope in that time period, they could and would indefinitely be hung ― if caught.Basically, they did-the-do in secret. And according to some letters (the non-censored ones, even), he regretted that the only form of intercourse now in his power was verbal, through letters.Very heterosexual, I'm sure.Forgot to mention ― there is some suggestive content, but (thus far) it isn't explicit.One more thing― sorry for all the notes. So, sometimes I will go into slumps and then emerge with a buttload of exquisite grammar and 1800s style writing, then have them talk like millennials. So, sorry about inconsistency.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER-  
> Okay, so there's minor (and historically dated) swearing, an (oddly vast) array of touchy subjects, a lot of angst, and the usual drama, humor, and friendzones ― except it's set in 18th century America, during the revolution.  
> Oh yeah, and I apologize for any inaccuracies ― this uses a lot of imagination where history doesn't provide info. Creative license and such was used, but do not tell me Lams is not canon. Seriously, read the letters. Some of that sh*t had to be censored.  
> But Hamilton and Eliza is still, in my opinion, the best for this fanfiction. Historically, they were both quite the characters. Marrying Alexander had changed Eliza, and vice versa.  
> Plus, back then you could and would die for being a “sodomite” ― with a sexual attraction to your same gender, then impulse on those thoughts. John and Alexander would probably, in today's culture, elope in a freaky fast time, but this is historical. If they did elope in that time period, they could and would indefinitely be hung ― if caught.  
> Basically, they did-the-do in secret. And according to some letters (the non-censored ones, even), he regretted that the only form of intercourse now in his power was verbal, through letters.  
> Very heterosexual, I'm sure.  
> Forgot to mention ― there is some suggestive content, but (thus far) it isn't explicit.  
> One more thing― sorry for all the notes. So, sometimes I will go into slumps and then emerge with a buttload of exquisite grammar and 1800s style writing, then have them talk like millennials. So, sorry about inconsistency.

“Men! Open the door!” shouted a low, automatically loud voice.

“Washington?” a majority of the soldiers asked, while Lafayette's giddy shout was, “Mulligan!” His French-tinged voice combined with the volume and enthusiasm of his outburst caused a pale, southern soldier to giggle.

“You will not find it funny once I am proved correct, Lieutenant Laurens,” Lafayette refuted, using his friend's lower rank in a jokingly accusatory manner.

A wiry man named Charles Lee leaped up, pulling the wood beam attached to the door aside. He was a considerably average height, but was dwarfed immediately once he found (to prove Lafayette's prediction) the hulking Hercules Mulligan in the doorway.

“You owe me five Franc, mon ami,” Lafayette said in a sing-song voice.

“All right, Mr. Frenchman; first of all, I didn't bet you any money. In addition, I don't have any Franc!” John Laurens exclaimed.

“Hey! Are you two done?” Mulligan rasped, his voice quieter than usual― which was still a high volume, but nevertheless. “Hamilton has drowned.”

“What?!” John shrieked, muffling the gasps (and even outbursts) from other soldiers.

“Yes, it's very unfortunate. I know, Laurens,” said Mulligan, attempting to decrease the amount of concern shown, lest his friend be convicted of sodomy ― though John Laurens had already been accused of it before.

“That's a shame,” Lee shrugged. “Oh well.”

Mulligan lifted the smaller man a good two feet off of the floor by the scruff of his uniform. “You had better not have intended to dwarf the travesty that this death is, Lee. Are we clear?” He bellowed.

“Mon cher, put him down!” Lafayette said, patting Mulligan's free arm.

Laurens chuckled.

“Mon ami, watch your implications,” Lafayette commended John (after making sure Lee was on the ground), but his beet red face told another story.

“So Mulligan is ‘mon cher’ and I'm 'mon ami’?” Laurens asked slyly.

“It seems that you are trying to stay the topic from Hamilton's death!” Lafayette accused.

“Wait, you weren't joking?” Laurens asked.

“Yes. I wouldn't joke about death,” Mulligan said gravely.

“Except for when you did,” Matthias Ogden reminded him, remembering the time when their regiment had a celebration upon receiving the false word that Charles Lee was killed in battle. A few chuckles went through the group.

“Shhhh,” Burr hissed. “I hear something that sounds like a mouse.” Aaron Burr was the youngest in the group, but still one of the most intelligent. Maybe even so, now that Hamilton was supposedly dead.

The group went quiet, and they heard a sound that could only be choked weeping.

“You're wrong, Burr,” Lee said dully.

“Laurens?” one of the soldiers near the back asked. Everyone turned towards the Lieutenant instead of the source of the voice, though. Even the bartender glanced his way.

The pale man lifted his head from where it was buried in his arms. His face was tear streaked, but that wasn't the only telltale sign. His eyes were puffy, and his face was flushed.

“A toast,” said the figure in the corner, stepping out and turning out to be James McHenry. “To Alexander Hamilton.” He raised his pint, and others followed suit, the voices a mix of his Christian name, his surname, and his full English name.

The only clear non-participators were John Laurens and Charles Lee. Laurens had murmured something like “Alex” before dissolving into tears again. Once the toast was done, Lafayette walked over to the South Carolinian soldier and cautiously put a hand on his shoulder.

John shrugged it off. “ ’M fine,” he whimpered, the words muffled by his overcoat.

“Greetings, did I just interrupt a funeral? Who died?” a tall man said, walking through the open door.

“Damn it, I forgot to close the door!” Hercules whispered, but stopped apologizing when John's eyes suddenly lit up.

Jumping to his feet, he raced over to the guest and embraced him, burying his face in the man's cravat. Only when Charles Lee recognized the familiar sandy hair and the striking blue eyes of the visitor did he grimace.

“Is it― could it be...A-Alexander Hamilton?!” The bartender stammered, awestruck. Then he laughed at the absurdity of it. “They were having a funeral for you!”

“I thought you were dead,” John gasped into his neck.

“I, uh, missed you, J―um, Laurens,” Hamilton said, pushing his friend a bit further from him.

“You've already been accused of sodomy, John, this might be your conviction,” he breathed so only his partner could hear.

“I'm sorry. Y-you're right.” Laurens struggled to regain his composure, but was scarlet-faced.

“We can rattraper later,” Alexander said, somehow maintaining a straight face. Lafayette, the only other person in the room who was fully fluent in French, snickered.

Laurens murmured a quick “I’ve got to go” and pushed past Alexander, an unreadable mix of emotions on his face.

Hamilton looked after him, then, once Laurens was out of earshot, asked, “what's wrong with him?”

The group delved into at least five different conversations, creating a dull din of noise.

“Oh, he thought you were dead, and sequentially afterwards, he was acting like some kind of lovesick schoolboy, and then―” Mulligan began to lower his voice, but was interrupted by Lafayette.

“He started crying,” Lafayette hissed. “He refused consultation, which I would say is uncommon, except he never needs consultation.”

Hamilton looked like he was about to protest, but thought otherwise. His friends noticed that he was likely hiding something, but wasn't everyone?

Plus, they already knew what was going on between John and Alexander.

“I think it might be best to, uh, go find him,” Hamilton said quickly.

Lafayette lifted an eyebrow. “Is that what they call it now, mon ami? To find him and then ‘catch up’?” Mulligan snickered.

“Yes. If that's a proper term.” Alexander looked over to McHenry and rushed a quick apology.

“It's fine,” James said. With that, Hamilton left.

Since John lived way down in South Carolina, and the written effort that contributed to the war was better done closer to its recipients, Alexander had let John stay at his home.

Which, due to the fact that he didn't have a wife, just added to the rumor of sodomy.

The good thing was that it meant he knew where Laurens was.


	2. Two

Pushing open their bedroom door ( ― yes,  _ their _ bedroom ― ) he noticed John was lying on his bed, fully in disarray.

“John?” He whispered, the name smooth on his tongue.

“Hh-Hamilton. I didn't expect you.”

“John, were you crying?”

“Alexander...it's nothing, i-it’s not a big deal.”

“Jack!” Alexander walked over to his friend and cupped his hand around John's chin. “What is going on in your head?!”

“I, well, I just thought you were going to die ― I worry every day when I'm not with you, what might happen! ― and when they said you were fulfilling some secret mission..then they said you were dead! What was I supposed to do?”

“I didn't know I was that important to you.” Alexander stared into John's grey-blue eyes, questioning a million things in unison.

“Of course you are! You're my best friend! Plus, I would care anyways if you died! But...you are the most important thing in my life, Alexander, the source of my existence.”

“You seem to be on the verge of sodomy, John.”

“This from the one about to kiss me!” John refuted.

“I-I wasn't going to!” Alexander backed up, tripping over a trunk that lay, open and discarded, on the floor.

“Wonderfully articulate. You must be very reliable with the ladies.”

“Oh, shut up,” Alexander laughed, and John frowned.

“I am not joking,” John said. “How do you not have a wife yet?”

“I...my mind is too distracted to think about women.” He stood up cautiously.

John paused. Alexander said 'women’, not 'love’, and his romantic paranoia got the best of him.

“That's good for the war cause, I suppose. Well, I'd better be off to sleep. Possibly tomorrow ― remember the battalion that I brought together? ― they'll start fighting in South Carolina, Mulligan got word from England that they're planning an attack there.”

“Goodnight, mon amour,” Alexander said, pressing his lips against John's forehead.

“Alexander? Are you okay?” John stammered, trying to keep his tone even.

“I..you'll likely leave before dawn, and I plan to sleep in,” Hamilton explained quickly.

“Ah. That makes sense. I'm sorry.” John laid down and pulled the rough-woven, worn down blanket over him, turning his back to Alexander.

Soon, the Southerner had fallen into a tumultuous slumber, tossing around until he was comfortable. Rain began to pour outside, and Alexander was thankful that he wasn't in a thin tent like some previous nights. Then, as thunder boomed and rung in his ears, the anxiety began rolling in. The storm reminded him of the hurricane, the salty smell in the air and the loud rumble of thunder mixed with flashing lightning. With a mix of nostalgia and fear, Alex hunched his body over, trying to block out the sound.

John was snoring lightly, clearly unbothered. Alexander gulped, then walked slowly over to the bed his friend occupied. Sliding under the covers, he wrapped his arms around John's torso and snuggled his nose into the crook of John's shoulder. Finally, he was at rest. And even though the blanket was thin, he was warm.


	3. Three

Alexander awoke the next morning to a cold air around him. He swore under his breath, what would John think of him? First almost kissing him, then sleeping with him…

He walked down the stairs. John was eating eggs and bread, reading the post comfortably at the rickety table.

“Uh. Good morning, John,” he said cautiously.

“Hello, Alexander. Did you get a good night of sleep?” John asked, lifting a blond eyebrow.

“Yes, I did,” Alexander said, his face turning so red that his freckles seemed to blend into it.

“You, um, slept with me. Do you want to indulge in explanation?”

“The storm..I guess it brought back memories of Nevis. You know, the hurricane.”

“All right.”

“You're not going to South Carolina?”

“No. We are going tomorrow.”

“We?”

“I mean, if you want to go with me.”

“I'm the aide-de-camp to Washington, he needs me to write to Congress and the current delegation.”

“Right. That passed my mind. Thank you for letting me stay here, Hamilton.”

The lack of use of his first name worried Alexander. “I'm sorry for everything last night, John..” he apologized, trailing off.

“Would it pain you to simply not bring it up in conversation?”

“I’m sorry, Laurens.”

“I should go to the general store, we're out of eggs and we're running low on bread,” John said.

Alexander laughed. “We're acting like a married couple or equivalent.”

John looked at him with those calculating blue-grey eyes and said carefully, “but we're not.”

“Of course not! That's, um, a capital offense. I don't want to get hanged,” Alexander rushed out, his nervous tongue slightly warping his words. Just a little.

“Yes. If you'll excuse me―”

“This is nearly your house too, John, feel free.”

“Hamilton, I’m sick of all this tension. Why are you treating me like I’m...I don’t know, almost like I’m Lee?”

“John, no, that is  _ not _ what I intended. No.” Alexander was slightly confused.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go get some food and...et cetera,” John said, pushing back his chair and standing up.

“Yes. Okay.” Alexander’s eyes followed John out the door. He sighed, sinking into a chair and running his hands through his hair.

Then John was back. “You could’ve reminded me to bring some money or something to trade,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’m sorry, you  _ are _ older than me,” Alexander said, “you should be more attentive than me.”

“No! You’re smarter than me, I mean, bloody hell, you wrote a 65-page article to refute Seabury!” John exclaimed, his English education showing up in his profanity. But he wasn’t done. “You’re younger, yes, but you’re smarter, more handsome, and you’re just  _ perfect _ at everything! I mean, do you know how many times I’ve heard girls swooning over your eyes, and every little mannerism, and your hair...God help me, I can barely stand it! If this  _ isn’t  _ sodomy, then, hey, strike me dead!”

John flung his arms out, emphasizing that he was an easy target if God was going to ‘strike him dead.’

He was not struck by lightning or any equivalent.

“See?! I’m likely going to burn in hell, just because I can’t resist you!”

“John, calm down,” Alexander gasped. “It’s...no.”

“Don’t say it’s jealousy, Alexander.”

“You know what, sit down, John. I’ll get the eggs and bread.”

“Please don’t go. Please.” John’s arm trembled, and his eyebrow was bent downward, twitching.

“Laurens! I need breakfast!”

“Okay. Fine. That’s  a legitimate… whatever. Just go,” John exhaled, his voice almost a growl.

Alexander looked at him and sighed, his shoulders slumping. “All right.”


	4. Four

“Whoo! Alex, guess what?!” John hollered down the stairs.

“What?”

“Catherine Schuyler is hosting a celebration...and most of her daughters are single,” John said, his eyebrows wiggling. He started to push Alexander’s door open, then he shut it forcefully. “You could’ve told me you were naked!”

“Eh, we’re all men in this house,” Alexander giggled, and in this somewhat contradicting himself. Some people did say that he was rather feminine, but John knew he was far from it. “But go on. Isn’t that like, one of the richest families in New York?”

“Yes. Their mother’s a Van Rensselaer, and their father’s this big general, apparently.”

“Ooh. They must be  _ swimming _ in money.”

“Affirmative,” John said, them winked. “In addition! Remember that girl you were swooning over?”

“Uhh..Elizabeth? Eliza Schuyler?”

“Yes! She’s one of Catherine’s daughters! She’s supposedly engaged to someone, but no one’s affirmed that rumor.”

“Won’t she hate me a little bit for..um, for kind of destroying her father’s position?”

“Well. Maybe, but maybe she doesn’t know it’s you.”

“That’s possible. What about you, John? Are you going to...be searching for a girl?”

“Nope.” John shrugged, avoiding Alex's penetrating gaze. “I want to stay focused on the war cause.”

Inwardly, John was wondering which was a worse betrayal: not telling his best friend that he had a wife back in South Carolina, or telling him after hiding it for so long. In addition, indulging in such thoughts ― when he met Alexander he was already married ― seemed like a betrayal to his wife, even if he married her out of pity and guilt.

“Aww, come on, John,” Alexander said, pushing open the door. “Have a little fun!”

“Put your cravat on. It’s this afternoon.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

“The party’s this afternoon, Alexander! It’s ten hours after midnight!”

“Yes...you already told me that. Sorry.”

“Quite the tomcat, eh?”

“You know it.” Alexander smiled, nudging John playfully. “Let's prepare ourselves for this long night.” He wiggled his eyebrows, causing a faint but still noticeable redness creep across John's face.

“What?”

“Sleep,” Alexander said, rolling the word on his tongue like he only said it once or twice in his life.

“Wow. For the first time in forever,” John muttered, smirking at Alexander.

“Yep. Plus, I haven't slept a wink within the last week.”

John hummed in agreement. “And you know, you do need to fix your wig.”

“Actually, I was thinking of just using powder. The other itchy things torture me,” Alexander chuckled.

Something about the half-hearted laugh caused John to withdraw with a quick, indefinite, “yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties here -- for instance, Martha Laurens was in Europe with her daughter when John was in America, because he had impregnated her when he was in England studying and married her so he wouldn't get called out.
> 
> But I'm too lazy to fix it, so South Carolina it is. Plus, I need some way to establish that that's where my boi is from


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woops woops  
> My bois realize they're sodomites :-)  
> Then get angsty

And that is how, twenty minutes later, Alexander came out of his washroom with white dust all over his face and hair, making his freckles stand out under the thin, irritating layer of white ― somehow.

John choked back a laugh. “Are you...all right?” He asked cautiously.

Alexander simply sneezed, causing some of the powder to shift or fall off of his face.

John giggled. “Allow me to help you, mijo.”

Alexander's grin shortened. “Mijo?”

“I've been studying a few other languages, since you're bilingual..”

“Ah.”

That was what Rachel, his mother, had called him.

She was dead.

Sticking a thumb out to brush powder off of Alexander's face, John attempted a warm smile. The events of the previous night again hung over his every thought, making genuity difficult. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it, but he didn't want it to cross the line that would be his final conviction. He had already spilled his heart out, and, again, maybe it was his paranoia, but Alexander seemed to have regarded it dismissively ― for whatever reason.

“Alexander, would you lie to the authorities on my behalf if it was necessary?”

Alexander stopped short. “And why would I need to do that?”

“For the, um, sodomy accusations and such?” John smiled weakly, and Alexander stretched an arm out, tangling his fingers in John's hair, then letting it go.

“Anything, my dear Laurens.” Alexander moved closer, maybe two inches from John.

Putting his arms on John’s shoulders (because his height forced his friend to look up), he said, “I know much about French culture, most of it involves intimacy between close men in a way, and it's considered normal ― meaning that only escalating it to a certain point would be sodomic. But we won't do that.”

“How come, pray tell?”

“John Laurens!” Alexander commended him, moving his hands to John's shoulders and moving apart so his arms went stiff. “Why should you ask? I love you, but I value your life more than.. _ us _ .”

John sighed. “Your pride will be the death of us all.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want your lack of pride to be the death of you!” Alexander exclaimed, suddenly very enthusiastic.

“Wh-what?”

“Y’know what, fine. I’ll just wear a wig,” he said, blowing the white dust off his face.

“Good luck with that,” murmured John.


	6. Six

The span of time between their argument and the start time of the ball passed quickly, with Alex and John finding every reason to stay silent, or be in a different room, or leave the house for a span of time.

Alexander had asked Lafayette, whose acclaim to royalty of some sort gave him experience, to help him use the powder for his wig.

Once they arrived at the Schuyler Estate, they could hear the exited shouts of a massive quantity of people, some of whom were already drunk. Laurens tried not to brush Hamilton’s shoulder, but with all the people, it was difficult not to. Everyone around them could notice the tension.

“Alexander!” The voice was somewhat masculine, but clearly came from a person smaller than Hamilton.

“Aaron Burr!” Alexander clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I somehow  _ did _ expect to see you here.”

Burr laughed. “Yeah, well. You know I’m here for the ladies.” He winked at a passing woman, who gave him a withering look. Burr simply shrugged and turned back to Hamilton.

“Oh, look, there’s Angelica.”

Stopping his stride, Burr stared at her. The eldest Schuyler sister, with dark, curly hair and a calculating gaze. She seemed to be arguing with a person Hamilton noticed to be Lafayette, hissing something about keeping away from her “innocent little sister.”

Burr then nudged  his partner, and Laurens reminded them of his presence with a not-so-subtle “ohh no.” Alexander had caught the eye of a shyly pretty girl, with a simple blue gown and shiny, twisting locks of hair. Her dark brown eyes snagged on Hamilton’s face, and his face went red. He was taken. Heck, he was infatuated!

Only Elizabeth Schuyler could make the constantly talking, quick-thinking, over-the-top, impulsive Alexander Hamilton speechless.

“Hey, here’s your chance,” Burr snickered.

Carefully pushing through the crowd, Hamilton found Eliza talking to a younger girl in a silky yellow dress with carefully stitched flowers intricately weaving across the sides. Margarita Schuyler, known more often as “Peggy”, Eliza’s younger sister.

“Excuse me, Elizabeth?” Hamilton started, nervous as ever. “I’m Alexander Ham―”

“Oh, I know who you are.” Standing up from her seat, Eliza met his gaze, challenging him. “You brought my father down. The aide-de-camp to General Washington. You must think you’re  _ so smart _ for doing that. Well.” She set her jaw.

“Whoo. Okay, Miss Schuyler. Can we maybe start over? I’ve only seen you a few times, and we’ve clearly gotten off on the wrong foot. I am Alexander Hamilton. What’s your name?”

He stuck out his hand.

Eliza’s shoulders slumped in a sigh. “I’m Elizabeth Schuyler.” She took his hand reluctantly and unenthusiastically, and Hamilton simply smiled.

Peggy grimaced, nonverbally apologizing to Alexander, just out of the peripheral of her sister. But Hamilton straightened, then kissed the top of her knuckles lightly. “It’s an honor.”

Pulling her hand away quickly, Eliza looked up at him, lips quirked in a half-smirk, half-frown. “Thanks. I wish I could say the same.”

This caused Peggy to hide a giggle behind her hand.

“Ah. You’ve got spunk.”

“Well, yes. I’m not attracted to men with a lack of comebacks, though. So, you can go.”

“Give me a chance,” Alexander tried, his steely blue eyes challenging her to decline.

“You’re begging. No.”

“Fine.” Hamilton shrugged lightly, disappearing back into the crowd. Eliza heaved a sigh of relief.

But then he was back.

“Um, could we start over again?”

“What do you want?” Eliza deadpanned.

“You…?” Hamilton quipped hopefully.

“Not a chance.”

Alexander was trying to think of a slick refute when fingers wrapped around his arm.

It was Laurens.

“All right, tomcat,” he said, forcing a laugh. “Let's go. Laf’s got Marguerite.”

“Jackie!” Alex hissed with fake anger, using Laurens’ nickname to spite him. “I'm trying to get Eliza!”

“Yeah, yeah,” John said, a smile playing on his lips as he dragged Hamilton away from the ladies. “Sorry, miss.”

Peggy's eyes lit up. “ _ He's _ pretty good-looking.”

Eliza hit her sister gently, playfully. “Oh, come on! First Stephen, then Gilbert, now that Alexander's friend? He's probably not into women. Look at how he looks at Hamilton ― they've probably consummated.”

“I don't think I know what you mean.”

“They've probably, you know. Eloped.”

“WHAT? But they're both males. So how would that work?” Peggy asked.

Eliza sighed. “You're too innocent.”

“But you've accused me of having a wandering eye.”

Eyes darting over to where Laurens and Hamilton were...conversing, Eliza grumbled.

“Don't worry,” Peggy teased her sister, “I won't take Hamilton.”

Reddening, Eliza shrieked, “I don't like him!”

Angelica turned towards them, slapping Lafayette's shoulder (she was apparently at the counter with  Burr, Laurens, Hamilton, and him) before moving over to her sisters.

“That Hamilton is quite a character,” she giggled.

Eliza cocked an eyebrow. “Did you tell him you were married?”

“Whoops.” Angelica shrugged, her curls bouncing over her shoulders. “Well, it's rare to find a  _ man _ I can match wits with.”

“What about John Church?” Peggy gasped.

“True. Plus, he has eyes for Eliza,” Angelica snickered.

“Well. I will never give my love to him! He's stuck-up, thinking he's so great and so much better than everyone else, and―”

“If it's about the thing with father, let me say this: if father doesn't care, you shouldn't. I know you just want some grudge against Hamilton,” Angelica deadpanned.

“Okay. He's attractive, smart, and all that, but he has a thing for every girl  _ and guy _ he meets. You can tell he's a big flirt, and there's no denying it.”

“Well, if you're married to him, the other girl's can't―”

“No!” Eliza interrupted, as usual having no regard for the  _ proper _ way of conversation ― i.e., listening and waiting until someone was done speaking. Plus, in this situation, she found it quite necessary to interrupt her sister, who was prone to talking too much. “I will not marry him! He's rude and impudent, forget the rest.”

“Well, you've got to admit, he's got a sizable nose,” Angelica said, once again making jocular references that Peggy couldn't understand.

But Eliza knew what her older sister meant. “Angelica Schuyler Church! You are  _ married _ !”

“I meant the nose on his face,” Angelica laughed lightly. “Although they're likely similar in size. Actually, the latter is probably bigger―”

“Shut up!” hissed Eliza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone even read this


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! The third installment of my posting spree is here. I've actually got eleven chapters on this thing, but y'all might have to wait for it due to, you know, my being what I'll tentatively call grounded.

Laurens took advantage of the vast array of drinks and was soon drunk with alcohol and rather tipsy.

Walking over to Alexander, he breathed into his neck, “I really like you, Alex.”

His voice was slurred with drunkenness, but it wasn't as if Hamilton was any more sober.

“Laurens,” he said, drawing out the final consonant pleasantly on his tongue. “Go on.”

“I like you a  _ lot _ .”

John smiled, his forehead hitting the crook of Alexander's chin as he advanced. “A big lot. Lotsa lot.”

Hamilton grinned down at his friend, pink-faced. “I like when you kissed me.”

Lafayette turned towards the two, subtly nudging Hercules Mulligan. He had drank a lot, but was nearly immune to the sensation of alcohol. Mulligan, who was affected and intoxicated greatly, giggled. “You kissed him?”

Alexander grinned deviously at Lafayette and Mulligan, then looked down at Laurens. “No, but I want to.”

Lafayette cocked an eyebrow. “That's a punishable crime.”

“In France, men can kiss each other and stuff,” Laurens slurred.

Lafayette was not amused. “I'm French, connard.”

Alexander gasped, wrapping John closer to him ― actually pressing the latter's head to his chest, like a mother to a young child. “Don't curse at Laurens! He's too innocent!”

“Hamilton, I am literally  _ over _ two years older than you,” John refuted. “And you know I'm not―”

“Shhh,  _ mon cher _ ,” Alexander shushed him, patting his head. “Age mean nothing.”

“Don't you mean  _ Mon doudou _ ?” Lafayette snickered quietly.

Alexander defensively hugged Laurens tighter.

A voice caused the two to jump apart.

“Hamilton, my sister would like to talk to you,” Angelica smirked, dragging a protesting Eliza by the wrist.

“Which one?” Alexander joked.

Laurens turned around, quietly asking the bartender for the strongest thing available.

Angelica's smile faltered. Eliza was right; Alexander and Laurens had something. But her sister was her first priority, so she went with that.

“Eliza would like to speak to you.” Nudging her sister towards him, Angelica winked at Alexander.

She knew Eliza liked him, but just didn't want to mess around with too many guys. Turning to leave, Angelica noticed out of her peripheral that Laurens a had chugged two large drinks and was looking for more.

“Finally came through for me, Eliza?” Alexander flirted. Laurens glanced sideways at him, and then turned back to the bar too chug more alcohol.

“All right, sure. I was dragged, literally  _ dragged _ here against my will.”

Eliza caught sight of Laurens, and her brows creased together.

“And it looks like your friend is drunk.”

Knowing what John was likely thinking (as Alexander jumped to the conclusion that John was the drunk one), he turned to his friend.

Laurens was already red-faced, and probably not thinking straight. “Lex. Is this your soulmate?” He slurred, then shot a grin in Eliza's direction.

“Umm,” Alexander started, but John wasn't done.

“I thought I was your soulmate,” he giggled, and Eliza inwardly sighed with relief.

“Okay, I'll go now,” she said, faking disappointment.

“Wait, Betsey,” Alexander tried, trying to use a nickname to his advantage.

“No, really,” Eliza deadpanned.

John smirked lewdly, and Alexander tried to ignore it.

“I've got to be home by, um, nine,” Eliza tried.

“This is your house, though,” Alex refuted, his brow furrowed.

“Bathroom,” Eliza said quickly, then rushed off.

“Alex, A-Alexander,” John started, stumbling closer, “do you wanna play a game? Hercules made it up.”

“Sure…”

“Here, you put your hands here―” John grabbed Alexander's hands and placed them on his (John's) hips. “And I'll put mine here―” he placed his own hands on Alexander's shoulders, forming delicate folds in the navy blue sleeve of his uniform.

“Then you must do something with your feet.”

John began swaying slightly to the music, then drew Alexander out onto the dance floor. Angelica giggled behind her hand, and Eliza again looked relieved. Alexander, on the other hand, was a blushing mess.

“This is the...the game you were talking about?”

“Why, were you expecting something else?” John asked, his tone suggestive.

“N-no, but, I mean, yes, I’m not sure, I don’t know..”

Accidentally catching Eliza’s eye, Alexander gulped.

“I thought you were in the bathroom,” Laurens slurred as they got nearer to the two sisters.

Eliza shrugged, not really caring. “I decided against it.”

“You know, outside of the bedroom, you're much more feminine,” John grinned, his attention quickly diverted, and Alexander reddened.

“You know I have a masculine spirit, Jack,” he muttered.

“Alright, Daddy. Your word is truth,” John laughed.

“What in incineration,” Eliza murmured, and Peggy snickered.

“Angie, is that what you were talking about? With―”

Angelica cut her sister off work a reprimanding cough. “Do you want something to drink?”

The three sisters hustled away, Eliza's fingers lingering on a wineglass on the counter. Her eyes met Alexander's, and his gaze challenged her almost flirtatiously. She broke the eye contact nearly immediately.

“Wait, John, keep dancing and flirting with me, I think Eliza is getting jealous,” Alexander said lowly.

Laurens gulped, swallowing down his words and suddenly sober. “Yeah. Okay.”

And if Alexander saw John's heart being ripped apart just a little bit more than usual, well, he'd never say.

**Author's Note:**

> Muchos fluff coming soon ;)


End file.
